


House of McCool

by explodinganyway



Category: Derry Girls (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Ms De Brún, Orla backstory lbr we all want it, Orla's a Step prodigy fight me, Other, ms de brun liked my drawing, teen pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 10:53:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19171819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/explodinganyway/pseuds/explodinganyway
Summary: When Erin opens her door loudly proclaiming that it's Ms De Brun's house that they've been invited to, a warmth starts up in Orla's chest and drops through her like a rock.Oh, she thinks. Maybe getting her hair brushed nice and slow by her mammy can wait. Maybe she'll just see her tomorrow instead.Part 1: Ms De Brún Liked My Drawing





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part 1 : Ms De Brún Liked My Drawing  
> Part 2 : Backstory (And A Reason To Love Aunt Mary)  
> Part 3 : Bomb Disposal

Part 1 : Chapter 1 of 3

 

Orla's on her way home from class; the steps she just learnt flowing through her still and making her bounce in time with music in her head. She carries a knife, her Granda Joe told her to. The streets are more dangerous during the day but nights aren't great either. She runs when she can, hair half pulled back and no one watching. Erin tells her it's rude to jump around like she's doing: to walk in fits and bursts with windmill arms but she finds it keeps her alert. She hears when people call her shit. Steps around it. Her Granda Joe taught her that too. 

 

She's left her step class early today; the advanced group just starting warm up as she shot her teacher a wave and ran out the door. Erin had told her to come home quick. Had said they had gotten an invitation they simply couldn't refuse. Erin's words. 

 

It's already dark when she leaves the studio and it's frosty outside this time of year so she keeps working some of her routine into the journey; flicks her hair out of her eyes when it starts to annoy her. She had wanted to go straight back to her house and rest her heavy heavy legs. Her mammy had a hair appointment that afternoon so Orla had missed her after school and she wants to smash her face into the soft warm part of her shoulder blade; wants to sit still while she brushes her hair. But Orla knows Erin and knows not going when she's all puffed up with excitement like this will only cause stroppiness tomorrow. 

 

When Erin opens her door loudly proclaiming that it's Miss De Brun's house that they've been invited to, a warmth starts up in Orla's chest and drops through her like a rock. 

 

Oh, she thinks. Maybe getting her hair brushed nice and slow by her mammy can wait. Maybe she'll just see her tomorrow instead. 

 

When they set off to meet the others, Orla holds tight onto Erin's hand so the warmth inside her doesn't cause her to run ahead. She feels out of breath like she'd actually stuck around for her advanced step class and also maybe sprinted home as well. She shakes the feeling down her legs until she can stomp it out with her feet against the pavement, the slap reverberating through her ankles and shins. She has the flash of Ms De Brún's eyes in her head; the way they had looked just before she turned around to put Orla's drawing safely on her desk. Shiny, shiny, and reminding her of the unprecedented wonder of seeing Father Peter flick his hair back. 

Later that night she says she'd die for her. She thinks it might be true.


	2. Ms DeBrún Liked My Drawing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over her wine glass though, Ms De Brún looks different. Sharper, if not around the edges. The wine sits warm and quick and Orla looks up quickly in surprise at how strong it tastes-- she hopes her eyes turn shiny sweet as she catches the teacher's gaze for a second too long.

Orla's head becomes sharp with the wine. She's used to it from cateful sips from her mother's glass, the short, sweet wine with Granda Joe, Aunt Mary smiling tightly and allowing small sips at Christmas. Claire becomes hopeless though and Erin's not much better. She looks over at Michelle who catches her her gaze and winks, and Orla pokes out her tongue in response. They had both been this wasted around the girls and James a million times before but never with a teacher present.  


Over her wine glass though, Ms De Brún looks different. Sharper, if not around the edges. The wine sits warm and quick and Orla looks up quickly in surprise at how strong it tastes-- she hopes her eyes turn shiny sweet as she catches the teacher's gaze for a second too long. She's not the first to look away and she's tasted that before too. It tastes like blood. She lets that one slip.

 

She's dizzy now and a little enraptured by Ms De Brún. It is hard to focus sometimes but the soft gravelly voice puts Orla at ease. She's nowhere near as plastered as Claire sitting next to her but she's starting to want to shake the strain out of her shoulders so she doesn't become sleepy with it: the timbre of the teacher's voice leading that way, if not her gaze. Orla had run so fast though, arms outstretched to get there on time and the next time Ms De Brún looks at her she doesn't look away. The eye contact perks Orla back up and she finds she likes the careful scanning gaze. She wonders if Ms Brún often talks about one thing while meaning another. She wonders if she can really get Erin's Sylvanian family. She wonders if Ms De Brún knows her gaze is as shiny shiny as Erin's old dolls. She swaps out her glass of wine for a half eaten lollipop sitting sticky in it's wrapper. At the first bite down Ms De Brún's eyes turn dark towards her, and she finds she likes that too. Wonders if she was supposed to see it though. Wonders what else the teacher might share, intentionally or not. 

Ms De Brún paces slowly in front of them, her pants swishing softly and the sound of it reminds Orla of how closely she had stood behind her that day. They had meant to be looking at a school photo, hadn't they? Someone had died? All she remembers is the low tilt of her voice, the confusing feeling of her as she moved to step behind the other girls. 

 

The teacher's soft steps makes Orla want to stand up too; shake out her limbs and finish the steps routine she had abandoned. When Erin starts reciting poetry though she finds Michelle glaring at her quickly and the four of them break for the door. 

"Thanks so much for having us," Michelle smiles tightly at Ms De Brún, her gaze furiously ignoring a plastered Claire clutching desperately onto her arm and Erin almost in tears beside her. 

Orla glances at the trio and, side stepping them quickly, leans back on her heel and gazes at the teacher. She cocks her head to the side when Ms De Brún doesn't say anything but pulls out the piece of chalk she'd picked up off the floor; the sticky feel of it in her pocket since class overtaken by the soft feel of it in her fingers. She keeps her eyes flicking between the curious gaze of the teacher in front of her and what's in her hand before licking it quickly, almost unceremoniously. It tastes horrible but Ms De Brún's eyes turn feral, just for a moment and Orla takes that time to smile to herself, to hand the chalk back over. She misses the feel of it between her fingers straight away, not realising how much she'd been fiddling with it all day until it was gone. She does a quick sidestep again, shrugging off the questioning flick of Ms DeBrùn's head, their gazes lingering a second too long as she sees her rub the chalk tightly between her fingers. Orla likes her, the pretty pretty smell of her wrists as she had poured the wine, the label of the bottle so close to Orla's eyes that she had to take a second to let them refocus. 

The dark but bright way she looked at them all had inspired Orla. The drawing of the dog had been a good drawing. The next one would be better. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What base is meeting at Borders? Xx


End file.
